by Sara Foster
‘Is that what you want?’
Danielle leans closer so that her chin almost touches his shoulder. ‘I’m just saying, I’m not the one who’s married, Callum. And if you don’t want your wife to find out anything about us, then perhaps you should think about it.’
Behind them, they hear someone noisily clear their throat.
Mike McCallister has climbed into the small space behind them. ‘I’m getting a lift to the pub,’ he says. He looks between them. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.’
Danielle shrugs. ‘We’re just talking about the school fell-running championships tomorrow. I’m on first aid, and Callum’s daughter is running. She’s a champion runner, isn’t she, Callum?’
Callum thinks of Mike’s son, and the painful rehabilitation he must be enduring as he struggles to walk again. Had Danielle considered that before she said those words? What is she trying to do?
Mike grows serious. ‘My nephew is running as well. The weather doesn’t look great for tomorrow. Tell her to be careful out there.’
‘She’s used to running in different conditions,’ Callum snaps. ‘She’ll be fine.’
McCallister raises his eyebrows and then turns to stare out the window. Callum is embarrassed by the outburst, but nevertheless he can’t bring himself to apologise.
The others join them and the vehicle starts. Callum tunes out of the jokey conversation. His head is swimming. Why does there seem to be a threatening undertone to everyone’s conversation today? Or has he got it all wrong? Perhaps he is closer to the brink than he realises.
21
ANYA
I am shivering in the car by the time I see the orange RAC van approaching, almost two hours after my call for help. After the first forty-five minutes I had tried to get inside the school to keep warm, but although my security card had worked, every door to the buildings had been locked. Through one of the windows I had seen a dark shadow inside and I had frozen, mesmerised, before I’d realised it was just a reflection of the trees quivering in the breeze behind me. I had briefly considered walking home through the woods, but if that’s how little it took to spook me, then I doubted I could endure the exacting darkness of the spirit road.
I’d tried calling both kids but neither of them picked up, nor had they replied to my texts. It hasn’t helped my mood. As the van’s headlights slow down to pin me in their glare, I feel foolish for not calling Callum. I reply to his text with a curt OK, then I’m terse with the RAC man, who grumbles back at me as he sets about recharging my battery.
This day cannot possibly get any worse. By the time I drive home I have grown tired from the effort of curbing my temper. I soothe myself by thinking of the long, deep bath that’s finally drawing closer.
When I pull up, I’m surprised to see most of the house in darkness. I had been annoyed with the kids for not texting me back, but now I realise with a shock that I have not seen Zac since he set off on his walk with Maddie.
That was hours ago. I have been so concerned about my daughter’s whereabouts that I have neglected to make sure my son is safe too. What the hell is wrong with me today?
I hurry up the path and let myself in. The hallway is dark, the living room door slightly ajar, lamplight escaping between the gaps. I automatically glance into the room as I pass, hoping to see Zac slouched there, eyes fixed on the TV, but the sofa is empty.
I climb the stairs and open Zac’s door. His computer is on, as always, but he isn’t there. His bed is unmade, as though he has just walked out for a minute. Where the hell is he?
There is nothing unusual in our house about an unmade bed, I reassure myself. He’s probably gone to Cooper’s. Keep calm.
I am about to go back downstairs when I pause. Georgia’s door is slightly open. This never happens; we are always shut out.
I walk across and push gently against the wood. It gives way with a creak. For a fraction of a second, Georgia appears before me, asleep on the bed. A mess of dark hair, a long flowing skirt, a pair of dirty cream boots on the rich red covers.
I take a step forward. See her thin, pale, sleeping face. And I freeze.
It’s not Georgia.
A stranger is sleeping on my daughter’s bed.
This cannot be happening. I’m losing my mind. The first thing I do is pinch myself, to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Then I lean closer. She is breathing evenly, in fact she is snoring – delicate little whispery snores. Her skin is sallow – or perhaps the sickening yellow pallor of it is a mask made by the hallway light.
The low lighting renders this all the more surreal. I am lost in some kind of fairy tale, surely. Sleeping Beauty, or Goldilocks perhaps. I stare at her, trying to place her. Nothing registers. I can’t recall ever seeing her before.
The hospital intruder. What had Callum said in the car? Fairly young – in her twenties, I’d say. Long brown hair. Skinny. Dressed casually.
This woman matches that description to a tee. She looks so young, so vulnerable. Could this really be the person who had terrorised our children last night?
Fear drags me backwards. I don’t take my eyes off our intruder, but I practise careful footsteps one behind the other until I’m out of the room. Panic has shut down all extraneous thought. My brain begins a series of emergency commands.
Priority one: locate the children.
I switch my phone onto silent and text Callum and both kids. URGENT. Where are you?
Next step: call the police.
I head to Zac’s room, which has the best mobile reception. I think of the sleeping girl next door. She seems more exposed than dangerous, caught off-guard as she is in slumber. But I’m not taking any chances.
Before I can dial, my phone lights up in my hand. It’s Zac’s name on the screen, and I quickly connect the call. Phone to my ear, I whisper, ‘Zac, where are you?’
‘At Cooper’s. Why?’
Relief rushes through me at the sound of his voice. ‘Thank god. I’ve just got home and there’s a woman asleep on Georgia’s bed. I don’t recognise her – do you know anything about her?’
‘What? What? No, I don’t. How did she get in? Isn’t Dad there?’
‘He’s on a rescue. Perhaps it’s one of Georgia’s friends.’
‘Maybe. What does she look like?’
‘Skinny, long dark hair.’
‘I’m not sure. Maddie had a friend around at our place earlier but she’s a redhead. What are you going to do?’
‘Phone the police. Sit tight, I’ll call you back shortly.’
‘Mum . . .’ he says, but I am not listening. My hand has dropped to my side. There’s an apparition in the doorway.
Our visitor is awake.
The moonlight coming through Zac’s window lends a ghostly sheen to her skin. Her hair is unkempt, tucked behind her ears. Her clothing is dishevelled. It’s too dark for me to see her eyes properly.
I tense as she steps closer, and she stops. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ Her words are soft and reedy. She makes a strange noise after she says this – half-laugh, half-sigh. ‘Don’t call the police.’
‘Who are you?’ I’m trying to feign boldness, but my voice quavers. ‘How did you get in here?’
‘The back door was open. I was waiting. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.’
‘What are you doing here?’
She takes a shaky breath. ‘I came to see Georgia.’
Her hesitation bolsters my confidence. As I ask ‘Why?’ I make the mistake of stepping forward. We are still out of reach of one another, but I see her flinch.
Her mouth opens, and I’m sure she wants to tell me. I hold as still as I can, willing the words to come. But it doesn’t work.
‘I made a mistake,’ she says, as she turns and runs for the stairs.
‘Wait!’ I fly down the stairs after her, as she heads for the kitchen and the back door. She slows down as she reaches for the handle, and I grab her arm. ‘Stop! Tell me what the hell is going on.’
She pauses, but I feel how tense her body is – my hold on her is tenuous, barely keeping her from flight. Her head turns and her eyes meet mine. In the dim light, I see the sheen of tears. I see the haunted gaze of someone lost.
What can I do? If only I could open her mouth, pull words from her like streamers in a magic trick. My professional training kicks in. Empathise, I tell myself. Draw her out with sympathy. Against my instincts, I let go of her arm. ‘Sit down, please. Tell me what’s going on. Perhaps I can help.’
I go over to the kitchen table and slide a chair out, gesture to it. Her eyes follow me but she doesn’t move. I don’t know what to do next, and there is a strange energy in the silence that follows – as though we’re both on the cusp of something, and whatever we say next might tip us to another place. I am suspended in these seconds, but there is a weight to them. Suddenly I don’t want this strange girl to move or tell me anything. I don’t want my husband or children to come home. I don’t want the clock to tick another second. I want to freeze the scene, then turn and boil the kettle, watch the steam swirl from the spout, feel my hands around the smooth china mugs as I collect them from the cupboard.
‘Your daughter is a slut.’
That final word is a needle, piercing through all other thoughts. Everything stirs. Now I am focused; now I am on high alert.
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘Your daughter is a slut.’ Her words glint with steel. ‘And now her friend is in hospital – I hope she knows that’s her fault. My life is a write-off, thanks to Georgia, and I see she has already moved on. I hope her new boyfriend knows what he’s getting.’
My breath can’t escape. My chest is so tight it might implode. Whatever Georgia has done, I’m sure that it doesn’t match this twisted version of the story. So, my voice, when I finally find it amid my stunned disbelief, is a growl. ‘Hang on a minute. How dare you – it was you, wasn’t it – the car – last night, wasn’t it, WASN’T IT? And you were at the hospital too, weren’t you? You were the one lurking in the corridor, stalking Sophia.’
‘Stalking her?’ Her fists clench, her eyes widen. ‘You think I’m some kind of crazy woman? I wasn’t stalking her, I was checking she was okay.’
The phone is still in my hand. My grip on it tightens, and she notices. Her demeanour changes again. I feel the hostile ripple of it, even though she barely moves.
‘I wouldn’t call the police if I were you,’ she says, in a low, menacing tone. ‘Ask Georgia what she’s been up to first, or this might be just the start of your family’s troubles.’
I freeze. In the silence I hear the front door opening. At the sound, our eyes lock, and for a moment we seem as scared as one another. But she reacts first, flinging open the back door, rushing away into the night.
I don’t wait to find out who has just come in. I give chase through the shadowy garden, leaping over pot plants, rounding the corner of the house in time to see her shadow bob down our side path. I keep running, aware now of footsteps fast behind me, and a voice shouting, ‘Mum!’ Even then, I don’t stop until I am standing in the middle of the lane.
‘Who was that? Who are we chasing?’ Zac asks, the words coming in breathless bursts as he catches up.
I’m too shattered to speak. I raise a hand to my forehead, panting, staring at nothing.
‘What’s going on, Mum?’
Either side of us, the woods are hushed and the trees are statues.
‘Zac,’ I say eventually, ‘I have absolutely no idea.’
22
GEORGIA
Georgia had come to Bethany’s house with a secret to tell, but in the hours since she arrived she hasn’t found the right time. Instead, they have snuggled under the covers in Bethany’s giant bed, drinking cans of Diet Coke and watching old episodes of Vampire Diaries, with Bethany chattering away all the while.
It’s the best Georgia has felt all day. Being somewhere different has allowed her worries to recede. She doesn’t want to move.
When the credits roll round again, Bethany turns to her. ‘You wanna carry on vegging or do something different? We could go out somewhere?’
Georgia hesitates. ‘I think I’d rather stay here. Is that okay?’
‘Of course.’
‘You’re so lucky that your parents have their own lives and don’t crowd you.’
Bethany studies her. ‘There’s good and bad to living in an empty house,’ she replies. ‘But it must be crazy in your family today.’ She turns away and when she swings round again she is cracking open another drink. ‘Want one?’ She holds out a can.
‘No, it’s okay.’ Georgia sets it aside. She has drunk so much already she feels sick. ‘You’re right about home – everyone’s on edge until we know Sophia’s okay.’
‘When will you go to see her?’
Georgia spreads her nails and pretends to examine them, even though they are uneven and paint-free. ‘I don’t know yet.’ She pauses. ‘Maybe I should have gone already, but I’m not sure I can face seeing her like that.’
Bethany reaches out and pats her leg. ‘I know how you feel. It’s pretty scary seeing people you love in hospital. My grandma had a brain tumour a few years ago and when they took us to see her I didn’t recognise her. Her face was all patchy purple and brown like a rotting vegetable – sorry, but there’s no nicer way to put it. It was Gran, but it wasn’t Gran either – do you know what I mean? Gran was the woman who baked a yummy pie and told dirty jokes, not a sedated sack of bones in a bed. Affected me a lot, that did.’
They are both silent for a time, absorbed in their own thoughts. Georgia stares at the flickering menu screen on the television. She takes a big breath. This is her chance. ‘Something happened over the summer . . .’ she begins.
As Bethany turns to her, the doorbell chimes. Georgia jumps. To her dismay, Bethany gets up. ‘Hang on, I’ll just see if I can shoo them away,’ she says, leaving the room.
Soon she can hear voices, and two sets of footsteps are heading up the stairs. Bethany enters the room again, grinning, and winks at Georgia.
‘I told him we were trying to have a one-on-one, but he wouldn’t go away.’
Danny stands awkwardly at the door. ‘When Bethany said you were here, I just wanted to check you were all right, after what happened at school.’
‘I’m okay,’ she replies, ‘what about you?’
He shrugs. ‘I think I am – to be honest it all seems a bit surreal.’
Bethany looks between them. ‘What happened at school?’
‘Georgia collapsed during sport.’
‘What?! Why didn’t you tell me? Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ Georgia doesn’t feel fine at all, tears are pricking her eyes. ‘I didn’t collapse. I just – I’m not sure what happened, but I’m all right now.’
‘So, are you still planning on racing tomorrow?’ Danny asks.
If one more person asks this question she is going to scream. ‘Are you?’ she snaps.
They stare at one other. ‘Ok-ay,’ Bethany says. ‘Perhaps you two need the one-on-one. I’ll be back in a minute.’
As soon as she’s gone, Danny comes and sits on the bed. ‘I’m sorry, of course you’re going to run. I know how hard you’ve been training – and now you’re close to the sponsorship deal. You’re so determined – it’s pretty awesome to watch.’
Georgia had been ready for an argument, but his kindness knocks the fight from her. She searches his eyes, trying to see anything that might indicate he isn’t genuine. He holds her gaze, steadfast and serious. The longer she looks, it’s like he’s breaking her down, forcing her into this connection with him. Her strength is all on the outside today, inside she is weak. His will is stronger than hers, and when he leans over she knows what is going to happen. While she lets him get closer and closer she is screaming at herself to stop. More confusion is the last thing she needs right now. She doesn’t want or deserve this moment.
And yet, when his lips touch hers
, the doubt disappears. Rather than push him away, as she had imagined she would, she puts one hand on the short hair at the back of his neck and pulls him towards her. She moves her mouth against his, lets his tongue find hers. He shuffles closer without breaking the kiss and wraps his arms around her. For once, she allows herself to forget about everything but this, even when she thinks she hears the door open and close again. She is going to stay put for as long as she can.
When they finally come up for air, Danny has a big silly grin on his face. But once the seal of their mouths has been broken, there’s a space for all Georgia’s fears and doubts to rush back in. Although she smiles at him, it is a mask concealing her terror. She can’t go down this road again.
Before she can say anything, he speaks.
‘Georgia, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.’
She sits still, mute, and he must read something amiss in her reaction because he grows serious. ‘Look, I know you’re having a tough time right now, and I’m not going to pester you . . . but when you’re ready, can we spend some time together? Nothing too heavy – just get to know each other?’
She doesn’t trust herself to speak, but she nods. She wants to be excited, but she knows that there is no future with Danny unless she tells him the truth, and that’s not going to happen right now. Not in Bethany’s bedroom, with their friend hovering outside the door. In spite of herself, her eyes begin to fill with tears, and she turns away from him and swipes angrily at her face.
‘Sorry, there’s just been so much to deal with today.’
‘It’s okay, Georgia, I’ve been thinking about Sophia heaps, so I can’t imagine what you’re going through. She’s your best friend. You must be gutted.’ He pauses. ‘I think you’re amazing for running tomorrow. Why don’t we pace each other a bit in the first section of the race – what do you reckon?’
She imagines them alongside one another, their footsteps pounding the same rhythm, and it calms her. ‘That sounds good.’
‘Ahem,’ says a voice from outside the room. ‘Is it safe to come in?’ Bethany pokes her head around the door. She is holding more drinks and carrying packets of crisps under her chin. ‘I thought you guys might need an energy kick if you’re going to pash each other like that.’